Ambush
by Kismet76
Summary: My take on the reunion of Zevran and his Warden in Antiva after Awakening. Zev/Ayla Mahariel


Her boots lifted small clouds of reddish dust as she walked along the streets of Antiva City. The hot, damp air carried the buzz of a lone insect to her ears, and her hand shot out in front of her face to chase away the annoying little thing.

_Creators! I miss Ferelden. If this is spring, I can't imagine what summer will be like…_

Ayla shielded her eyes against the afternoon sun and watched ahead of her, where the dusty road opened into a marketplace. She subconsciously straightened her back and slowed her steps, observing the people scattered amongst the stalls. Nobody seemed to stand out, but she tried to move as inconspicuously as she could, anyway. This, of course, wouldn't be enough if the Crows were watching out for her. She had come a long way, and it would be really irritating if she were stabbed in the back by some suspicious assassin, just when she was about to reach her goal.

It had been one year since the battle against the Archdemon, and a little less than three months since the assault on Amaranthine. She had left Ferelden to chase a shadow, or so she had been graciously told by the King of Ferelden himself, the last time she visited Denerim.

Ayla couldn't help but feel out of place in this strange, hot country; in the last few weeks she had begun to miss Ferelden quite a lot. She missed the icy water of its lakes and rivers, the green forests of her childhood, even the ever-present smell of wet dog.

She had played this encounter many times in her head, and the results varied greatly depending on her mood. Most of the time it went wrong, ending with one, or both, of them dead. Sometimes it played out better, with an improbably happy ending.

On some occasions, though, the imagined encounter went horribly wrong, with bitter words exchanged in a fit of anger, or with mocking derision on his face and stinging embarrassment on hers. _That_ ending she feared the most.

She cringed at the possibility. They had been parted for so long, he couldn't possibly still have feelings for her; if he had any left, he would certainly have tried to contact her, to reach her somehow, but he hadn't.

He had written her a single, stupid letter full of nonsense, right when she was in the middle of her troubles in Amaranthine and couldn't leave. She had read that accursed piece of parchment a hundred times over, each time finding a new possible meaning to those words, up to the point that she had almost gone crazy over it.

She felt alone in Vigil's Keep, her position as Warden Commander automatically placing an insuperable distance between her and her new companions.

She missed Leliana, the only one who could have understood her feelings, but the bard had gone back to Orlais soon after the end of the Blight, so she went to visit Alistair in Denerim, but she soon found out that he wouldn't do. Alistair was the dearest of friends, but he really couldn't give her serious advice on such a matter. She didn't even try to talk to him about her situation, fully expecting a brotherly scolding on how an assassin wasn't fit for her, and how he had been warning her ever since the beginning, and how he hated to say so but he _told_ her, didn't he?

She sighed, asking herself for the millionth time just _why_ had she come all the way to Antiva to look for that lying, cheating bastard…

"Lady Mahariel?"

She almost jumped out of her skin as a young woman, a human, suddenly appeared at her side, smiling at her with a hint of amusement. Her hand unthinkingly flew to the pommel of her knife.

"Lady Mahariel, I was sent by a friend." The thick Antivan accent reminded her of _him_, but this one's pronunciation could definitely be improved. "There is no need to arm yourself…"

Ayla swiftly regained her composure and sarcasm. "Of course, why should I arm myself in the presence of an assassin? Silly me."

The woman laughed softly. "I was told of your humour. I was also told that you are royally tough to kill, so don't worry, I certainly won't try."

Ayla's heart skipped a beat. _He_ had sent this woman. Wait, how could he have sent someone? How could he even _know_-?

"As I said," the woman continued, "I was sent by a friend, and I am to accompany you to a meeting place." She smiled again, definitely amused at Ayla's incredulity. "Will you follow me?"

Ayla could only nod. It was probably a trap, but she couldn't refuse, could she?

The woman preceded her for a few steps, and led her gracefully, through the marketplace and beyond, to a rather large and neat street, overlooked by a number of elegant villas. _Not the most suitable place for an ambush,_ she told herself, feeling her spirits rise**,** despite herself.

At last, the woman stopped in front of a large wooden door and opened it, leading Ayla into a lush walled garden. They passed by a small fountain and some beautiful flower beds, the air saturated with their heady perfume, finally reaching the entrance to a white-walled villa.

"Lady Mahariel, this way, please," said the woman, showing her a marble stairway leading to the upper floor. "Your host awaits you upstairs."

Ayla watched her bow slightly, then turn around and leave the place. In the drowsy silence of the hall, the hiss of her knives being unsheathed echoed from the white walls.

She slowly climbed the lavish staircase, mentally preparing herself for any possible scenario, and was met by a long, shady corridor with several closed doors. The only visible light came from the last room on the right, whose door was open, letting in the daylight.

When she reached the open door, Ayla looked inside and froze on the spot.

He was there. Lying on a bed, half-naked. Unarmed.

_Asleep? _

_Dead?_

She dropped her knives and ran to the bed, jumping on it and kneeling beside the elf's body. Grasping his shoulders with both hands, she started to shake him fiercely.

He opened his eyes immediately, grabbing her wrists and stopping her altogether. "Ah! My Grey Warden, I am awake, you don't need to shake me so hard!"

His smile and his accent, even thicker now than when she met him, were already doing _things_ to her, things that she wasn't prepared to acknowledge yet. He rose up to a sitting position, holding her wrists and studying her. "What is wrong, _gattina_?"

He had rendered her speechless and trembling, a condition he had caused frequently in the past, even if for _entirely_ different reasons. Now she could only draw a deep breath and sit back on her haunches, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

"Nothing's wrong. And I'm not your kitten." _Why am I saying that?_

"Oh, is that so? It used to be quite the contrary, as I remember." He slowly let go of her wrists.

"That was more than a year ago, Zevran. I'm a different person now." _Creators, why?_

"Hm, I see. And yet, here you are. Why did you come all the way to Antiva City then, my Grey Warden? Just to have a chat with an 'old friend'? To hire an assassin, perhaps?"

_Perfect_, she thought. _Bitter words first, then mocking derision. Exactly how it wasn't supposed to go._

"I…" The words she had carefully prepared beforehand seemed to elude her, so she opted for action.

He didn't dodge. To his credit, he didn't even _try_. She slapped him across the left side of his face, but he didn't so much as flinch.

He chuckled instead, but held up his hands immediately in a peace gesture, to prevent further attacks. "You have every right to be mad at me, my Grey Warden. I only ask that you listen to me, before deciding that you won't have mercy on me a second time."

She was even angrier than before. _Is he really planning on sweet-talking me into forgiving him? _"No."

"You see, my… What?" He looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time.

"I said _no_."

"So, you have already decided my fate? Alas, I hoped…"

"No, you don't get it. I don't _care_."

He was staring at her, incredulity painted on his handsome face.

_Who's speechless now, huh?_ "You can choose, Zevran**, **right now. No second thoughts. You can be with me, or without me. But this ends it, one way or another. If you want to be free, I'll walk out of this room**,"** _Creators__**!**_**"…**out of this forsaken country, and you'll never hear from me again. If you want to be with me, you won't do this. Ever. Again."

He was clearly dumbfounded, but he recovered quickly, a grin forming on that beautiful mouth of his. "You know, I'm having quite a lot of trouble with a Crow Master at the moment, so…"

"I said _now_!" she yelled. "You've had plenty of time to think, and you won't –**"**

He suddenly growled and pushed her back until she was splayed on the bed and he was straddling her legs, her wrists held tightly in his hands once again. He was seriously pissed off. "_Per la miseria!_ Will you ever listen, you crazy woman?"

She tried to break free, kicking and screaming, to no avail. He moved her wrists above her head, holding them down with one hand, while the other went to cover her mouth.

"I was _trying_ to say that I am in the middle of a Crow war, a war that I am going to win, incidentally, and that the situation here may grow… complicated, very soon. I need to stay though, if I want to end this once and for all, otherwise we will _never_ be free of the Crows."

He let the words sink in and waited for her to calm down a little bit. "Now, I don't _care_ if you believe me or not, _gattina_, but if you are quite finished throwing a fit, I'd rather devote myself to more pleasurable activities."

She moved her lips under his fingers then, trying to speak. He smiled and removed his hand from her face, but did not otherwise let her go.

"A war?" she asked. "You mean, you're actually trying to take over the Crows?" She had thought about this possibility, but it seemed _too much_ even for him.

"That I am. It is almost done, but you arrived at a most interesting moment." Then, as an afterthought, he added: "I expected you earlier, though."

"You… You sent me _one_ stupid letter in _all_ this time, explaining _nothing_ of this war, and you expected _me_ to come over earlier, looking for you? You conceited bastard!" She resumed her fight with renewed vigour, but he simply chuckled and held on tightly, effectively restraining her against the bed.

"As I said, my sweet Grey Warden, you have every right to be mad at me, although I really had no way to properly inform you of the situation. I barely managed to send that single letter to Ferelden, and since it could still be intercepted by the Crows I had to… twist the truth. Still, I let you know that I was in trouble, didn't I? That I couldn't come over and help you with the darkspawn…" His tone had softened, and she felt that he was trying to apologize, in his own way, so she relented.

"That is much better, _gattina_. Now, coming to your previous ultimatum…" he paused, pressing his body fully down upon hers**.** "There was really no need to issue one. I have always had _one_ reason to do all this, and I expected you to be more… aware of that."

He lowered his face to her neck, nuzzling at her soft skin and breathing in her scent. He purred his appreciation and pressed himself more tightly against her form, moving his free hand to caress her side and thigh. She whimpered, pleased at his words and yet mad at him for presuming too much.

_Or maybe I just know he's right, and _that_ bothers me._

When he nudged her knees apart with one of his own, she moaned and pushed her hips up slightly, her body treacherously displaying a bit of her pent-up frustration.

"Hmm. Now that matters are settled," he whispered in her ear, "and since you are _so subtly_ begging me for attention, I think we will move on to another subject." He went silent, kissing her neck and leisurely stroking every part of her that was in reach of his free hand.

"I- I don't _beg_." She tried to sound slighted, threatening even, but failed miserably.

He chuckled, clearly amused. "Ah, my sweet, how I missed your humour." The linen shirt she wore was thin and she didn't wear any breast band – _because of the hot weather, of course_ – so the result of his soft ministrations was already very evident. "And apparently _you_ missed _me_."

He slowly unbuttoned her shirt, all the while pressing his leg against her centre. She was starting to sweat, and her cotton breeches had never felt so constricting and deliciously coarse at the same time.

"Zevran, we –

"Hush, pet."

She shivered at the word. She literally felt herself getting wet hearing it, just like that. He used to call her 'pet' when he wanted her to feel like he _owned_ her, and in time this simple word had become a switch of some sort, a tool for him to use whenever he wanted to get this reaction out of her. It still worked, apparently.

She sighed at the notion, and at the touch of his deft fingers. He grazed the skin around her navel, eliciting small tremors from her tense muscles, and he traced a hot path from her neck to her jaw, up to her ear, with his tongue and lips

She could feel his skin, his chest pressing on her breasts, and it was warm, smooth and supple. His scent was a blend of orange blossoms and leather, weapon polish and _vaniglia_, and it was intoxicating. And his voice…

"Admit it, you missed me."

_Yes_, his voice. It touched something deep inside of her, causing a need to belong to him, to please him…

"I can feel it, pet. There's no denying it, your body _craves_ me."

She moaned, too embarrassed to form an answer, yet eager to show compliance.

"Look at you, jumping on my bed the minute you found me, rubbing yourself on me like a _gattina_ in heat. I barely touched you, yet here you are, moaning and writhing against my leg. Tsk, tsk, aren't you a wanton little minx?"

He nibbled the sensitive point of her ear just as his hand slipped into her breeches, skimming over her smallclothes above her slit. She shuddered, moaning loudly and arching against him.

"You are sopping wet already, pet. Do you really want me _so much_?"

She couldn't speak. She _couldn't_. Her throat felt constricted, her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth… She forced herself to take a deep breath, trying to calm down a little, but then the smell of her own arousal hit her, and she could only whimper in embarrassment.

When she didn't answer, he moved his fingers away, resting them just beside where she wanted them the most. "Tell me, pet." He nibbled her ear again before continuing. "Do tell, or I'll stop. I'll tie your hands and feet to this bed and I'll leave you here all day. You know I'll do it."

That she did. It actually happened once, and it had been torture. It had also been bliss when he returned to her, but she didn't think she had it in her to endure such an ordeal at this time. "I- I do," she managed to whisper.

"You do what, pet?"

"I- I want you. I… _please_…" Her body acted on its own accord, rolling her hips against his, trying to get his fingers to rub against her.

He purred his approval. "See? You beg so prettily. Now, get on your stomach."

He released her completely and rose from the bed, pulling away her breeches and smallclothes as soon as she complied with his order. He stood a few feet away from her, beside the bed, and started unbuttoning his own shirt.

"Ah, _gattina_, you're quite the sight. Such a lovely, round ass… And the way you blush all over when I look at you… Delicious."

She clenched her knees and buried her face in the soft beddings, wishing she could just disappear. The bed shifted a little, and she sensed Zevran settling on it, at her feet. She couldn't see him at all now, and – _Creators!_ – this aroused her even more. Her ears were straining to catch any movement, and her exposed skin was tingling, waiting for his touch.

"You see, pet, your body won't lie. You may want to hide your face from me, but you arched your back and pushed your ass towards me," he chuckled, his voice dark and low. "You really love feeling exposed, yes?"

She whimpered helplessly, overwhelmed by the two opposite desires warring inside her.

"Here, pet, this will help." He slid a cloth between the bedding and her forehead, pulling it down until it covered her eyes, and tied it behind her head. It was smooth and cool against her skin, and blessedly _dark_. She sighed, relaxing visibly, only to become tense again when he pulled her wrists behind her back, binding them, as well.

"There you go. Now, _gattina_, you'd better start behaving. This is all the help you'll receive for now, and you have yet to _earn_ it." He paused, letting the words sink in.

She swallowed audibly and nodded.

"Not good enough. Come now, I think you know what you must say."

She nodded again and cleared her throat before whispering: "Thank you, Master."

"Ah, _brava_ _gattina_."

He urged her to lie on her side, then helped her getting off the bed. When she found her balance again, he pushed her forward, guiding her with a hand on her side. She felt a soft rug under her feet, then a wooden floor. They took several steps, and she tried to remember if there were any other doors in the room, to guess where he was taking her. They walked on, and when she felt a draught on her skin she gasped, realizing that they were leaving the room. _The corridor, perhaps?_

"Do not worry, pet. No one will come upstairs without my permission. My Crows will have come back from the inn you stayed at, though, so if I leave the doors open, they may hear."

"…The inn?"

"They had a few servants pack your belongings and bring them here, just after you left," he explained as they halted in what she could only suppose be the corridor. "Now spread your feet more," he said, nudging her feet a few inches apart. "Hm, like this. Don't move," he added, "I'll know it if you do."

Then he let her go, and she swayed a little on the spot, confused by his actions and suddenly very conscious of her state. She tried to concentrate on his steps, as light as they were, and she gasped when she heard him speak out loud.

"_Giulio, Caterina! Montate la guardia alla base delle scale, non voglio nessun altro qui intorno per il resto della giornata_." Who was he talking to?

"_Sì, Maestro."_ Two voices answered Zevran's order from downstairs, a man's and a woman's. _Who is he talking to? Are they coming upstairs?_ Ayla had to concentrate in order to keep her breathing even. She didn't speak Antivan, and she caught just a couple of words, "staircase" and "day".

She shivered despite the heat.

She was standing naked and blindfolded in the middle of the corridor that lead to the stairway, her wrists tied behind her back, pushing forward her breasts. The distance between her feet prevented any friction, but, as she knew was his purpose, it also made her feel so much more exposed.

An instant later she felt Zevran's hand on her side again, as he silently pushed her forward once more. They entered another room, and she stopped when her hip touched a piece of furniture. He picked her up by the hips and sat her upon a polished wooden surface. _A desk?_ "Now pet, since you like so much to feel my eyes on you, you will show yourself properly to me."

She knew what he meant, for it had been one of his favourite… activities. She had never done that with her hands bound behind her back, though, so she tried to figure out how to move without toppling over or falling face-forward on the wood. After a bit of awkwardness, she managed to get on her knees with her back to him and her ankles just outside the edge of the desk. She sat back on her haunches and lowered her head until it touched the surface of the desk, then she leaned on the side of her head and carefully slid forward a bit.

She started to sweat, both from the discomfort and the embarrassment, but she finally managed to arrange herself as she knew he wished: on her knees, with her ass in the air and, since he was standing by the desk, almost level with his eyes.

"Very good, pet," he whispered, suddenly close to her head, on the other side of the desk. "I see you haven't forgotten. Do you think you deserve a reward for this?"

She pondered her answer, wetting her dry lips. "Please, Master. Whatever you see fit."

"A-ha, _bravissima, gattina_!" he said, equally pleased and amused at her meek reply. "Very well."

He gently lifted her shoulders with a hand, pushing something soft and cool under her, then he lowered her again until she was resting her head and neck on a large pillow. She exhaled in relief, wondering whether he'd have left her in her previous position, had she given the wrong answer.

She had no time to think this over, though, as he went immediately behind her and spread her thighs, audibly breathing her scent in and chuckling softly. "You are as wet as the Rialto Bay, pet. You're so very ready," he said, running a finger along her folds and making her breath hitch. "Alas, I have to punish you for your disrespectful behaviour, and for making me wait all these months."

He circled her opening with a finger for a few moments, then slowly pushed it in. She arched and moaned loudly, wondering briefly if the door was still open. The villa was very quiet…

"You are _so_ tight," he said, his voice raw with lust… _or maybe surprise? Can he tell…?_

He removed his finger and leaned to lick her folds, humming in appreciation against her hot flesh. She moaned even louder and pushed herself against his wonderful, _wonderful_ mouth. He teased her, denying the pressure and speed she pleaded for, keeping her just a breath away from completion. She screamed in frustration as he stopped, leaving her on the brink of orgasm and waiting mercilessly for her to cool down, only to start again once more.

She couldn't tell how many times he did that, or for how long, but it seemed like _hours_. The blindfold was damp with tears, and her throat was sore from all the constant moaning and screaming. She felt her peak rapidly nearing once again and, dreading another round of denial, she started begging desperately for release, for forgiveness, for anything, _anything_.

He hummed against her and didn't pull away, and she finally shattered, crying out his name with whatever was left of her voice. He let her ride out her orgasm, then untied her wrists and pulled her legs down, letting her feet touch the cool floor and her stomach lean onto the desk. She whimpered and stretched her legs and arms, relaxing in the new, more comfortable position.

"Now, _gattina_, there is one last thing that we need to clear up," he said, entering her from behind with a slow, languid motion, until he had filled her completely. "Who do you belong to?"

Still lost in a haze of pleasure, she swallowed and licked her lips, trying to produce a coherent sentence. "To… to you."

He rewarded her with a few long, leisurely thrusts, then stopped and pulled her up against his chest. He held a hand against her throat, keeping her head back, and nibbled on the delicate point of her ear, whispering, "Again."

Shuddering, she pushed back on him. "I belong to you."

His other hand circled her chest, squeezing a breast and keeping her upright against him, while he resumed thrusting inside of her, harder. "Again."

She was trembling, on the verge of completion again. "I'm yours, Zev… always have been. Only yours, all this time…"

He groaned loudly in her ear and moved faster within her. Ayla, thrilled by his reaction, lifted a hand to his neck and threaded her fingers through his soft hair, turning towards him as much as she could. He read her intentions and pressed his lips on hers, sliding his tongue in her mouth and taking away her breath.

She came, moaning in his mouth, feeling giddy and _complete_ once again. He followed her soon after, shuddering and groaning. They both collapsed on the desk, and he peppered her neck and shoulders with kisses.

"Ah, _gattina_," he whispered breathlessly, finally removing her blindfold**.** "_Mi sei mancata da morire_."

She blinked several times before looking at the room, or at the part of it she was allowed to see, given how she was pressed down on the desk. It was beautifully furnished, bright and airy. After some time she giggled, rolling her hips underneath his. "You know, we'll have to get up from this desk, eventually."

He hummed, slipping out of her. "I just thought you needed to rest a bit. I supposed your legs couldn't support you just yet."

She laughed as he let her up and turned her to face him. "Why, ser Crow, I thought the exact same thing about _your_ legs."

"Tsk, tsk, it's _Master_."

She blinked, confused. "What?"

"It's _Crow Master_. Come now, I think we'd better take a bath. We have an important meeting to attend to, tonight. If things go as I believe, we may soon have an entire guild to manage."

She smiled, watching him closely for a moment. "_We_, huh?"

"Of course, unless you have another Blight to end, somewhere."

She slid her arms around his neck before answering, her lips a breath away from his. "No, I think I need to relax for a while. A Crow war will do."


End file.
